Scales
by Straight-Outta-Hobbiton
Summary: In which Ichigo is a dragon and his hoard consists of people
1. Scales

Disclaimer: Don't own shit.

* * *

When Ichigo is little, it's a lot easier. His hoard is small, with half of it still unable to walk or talk and the other half prone to staying nearby, anyway. He loves them fiercely, especially now that he is still so small and delicate. He's almost too young to protect his hoard, but it's okay, because his hoard protects him, and they do it well.

Then, his crowning jewel expires.

Masaki, his diamond, dies protecting him, destroying herself in the process, and Ichigo almost shatters like she did.

It's hard to part from one's hoard. Most would rather die.

The real problem with Ichigo's hoard is that his gems are so delicate. Just by existing, they are damaged, and it makes Ichigo want nothing more than to lock them away forever.

It wouldn't help, humans don't work like that. Besides, it would make them unhappy, and Ichigo would never be able to bear that.

Time goes by. Ichigo takes the time to learn how to handle his grief, but never how to cope. His kind never 'cope', they never get over the loss of their treasure, and sometimes, Ichigo wishes he were human.

Only two people are ever added to his hoard over the next five years— Tatsuki, an uncut gem if he ever saw one, and Chado, who's probably the largest pearl Ichigo's ever going to consider, he's sure. Ichigo is a greedy thing— they all are, in the end— but he knows a prize when he sees one, and he is content.

Then he meets Rukia, and he falls in love.

Not in mate-love, not like his mother and father, but in hoard-love. He's never seen someone like her, a glittering amethyst with an attitude like nobody's business.

He considers her one of his hoard almost immediately.

She doesn't seem to mind, and even gives him the pleasure of staying close, curling up in his closet to sleep every night and following him to school in the day. It's natural to become attached so quickly, especially when Rukia is so willing.

"You're weird, Ichigo," she says when he proposes the idea of her staying. "I have to go home. I have duties."

She has family, too, but Ichigo doesn't find that out until her brother nearly kills him, a gilded silver dagger with a broken blade.

Ichigo wakes up under Urahara's care, naked save for the bandages and the blanket he's curled up under.

"What are those things on your hips?" the blond inquires as Ichigo pushes himself up into a sitting position.

Ichigo's never lied about his heritage.

"Dragon scales," he answers, running a hand absently against the soft, tiny indents that curve over his pelvis and down his thighs.

Urahara doesn't look like he believes him, but Ichigo doesn't mind. The shopkeeper is a golden set of scales, encrusted with cracked rubies and always off balance.

Cracks in rubies can be mended. Perhaps Ichigo might see to that.

Encroachment is awful, and Ichigo can't fight it as he likes, with teeth and claws and fury, so instead, he lets it happen, hating himself every minute of it.

When he comes back up, Urahara has more cracks, and Ichigo finds himself taking note in a way he never has with normal people.

Urahara's the first one to become a part of Ichigo's hoard without him even being aware of it.

Inoue and Ishida have places as treasures by the end of Rukia's rescue, cherished just as well as Chado and Rukia and considered just as beautiful. Ichigo's pleased with the rarity of these particular gems, and the kinship that comes along with them. Ishida as good as shares his blood, after all, and Orihime adds a pinkish hue to his hoard that's never really been there before.

Renji asks about his dragon scales, too, when he comes to visit Ichigo in the Fourth.

"Are you serious?" he asks when Ichigo answers honestly, laughing. "Man, Ichigo, you're weird."

It's Renji who's the weird one, as far as Ichigo is concerned. He's never been interested in straight-up jewelry, never mind something that requires piercings.

When Ichigo goes home, he feels like too much of his hoard is too far away.

*.*

* * *

Masaki kept her hoard deep in the mountains, where the rest of their kind make their homes. He has it on good authority that nothing's been touched, but once in a while, he goes to check on it.

Her hoard was very different from his. She'd lived a lot longer than he did, after all, and had time to collect what she wanted. Plus, her hoard wasn't apt to walk away. That's a good point about paintings.

Ichigo didn't really care for her treasures. They weren't his, after all, and art's never been a real interest for him, anyway.

She knew most of the artists personally, and those she didn't, she stole from. Ichigo walks by pieces by Bernini, DaVinci, Van Gogh and Edward Hopper as he surveys her cave, and decides that, with a few tweaks, it would make a good home. After all— there are hot springs and fresh water, both in separate offshoots of the little cave, perfect for humans and shinigami— should they happen to stop by and stay for a while.

First, though, before anything, he ought to find himself a way to light this damn place. He can see just fine, after all, but some people might have a little trouble (the image of his father stumbling of rolled up canvases older than he is is still quite amusing, though).

It's going to take a lot of work.

*.*

* * *

Shinji's the first person to take Ichigo's answer to the scale question seriously.

"Dragon?" he asks, arching a thin, delicate eyebrow as Ichigo pulls his shirt back on over his bandages. "Aren't they lizards?"

"Sometimes," Ichigo agrees. "I like to stay this way. It's easier to be near my hoard."

Shinji's a curious sort, one jewel of the many that make up the Visored. Ichigo goes weak at the knees at the idea of having the whole set, and he makes an effort to make it so.

He's successful, of course. Dragons are very talented creatures.

*.*

* * *

Grimmjow is a special sort of topaz, elegantly carved into something that is very much willing to kill. Ichigo knows it's meant to be when he's saved from otherwise certain death.

He's under the impression that Grimmjow knows it, too.

*.*

* * *

Isshin comes out to Ichigo the same Chizuru came out to everybody; unecessarily. It's not unexpected, it's not a betrayal, it's not anything except a silly man telling Ichigo what he already knows— it's not like he couldn't smell shinigami, after all.

Isshin has always been Ichigo's iron crown. Strong, well-made, deceiving— and yet, in the end, little more than decorative.

Ichigo has never thought his father to be the smartest person in the room, but that's never been an issue.

What is an issue, though, is the fact that Ichigo loses his powers to a rusty goddamn spoon by the name of Aizen Sousuke,

He's pissed about that, especially when the side-effects include _not being able to see his own treasures. _His precious things— the only way he'll be able to make sure they're okay is if they come to him, and he has a funny feeling that they won't want him to worry.

Stupid. He always worries.

To distract himself, Ichigo spends his time working on his mother's caves— his caves, now. He fills them with things humans need, like blankets and beds and rugs and pillows. For the most part, he's left alone by the others— they are older than him, much older, and care little for the hatchling that hasn't even breached two centuries of life. But once in a while, he gets visitors.

"Humans are a troublesome hoard," his mother's old friend remarks when she visits, sky blue scales shrinking and morphing to become something closer than human skin. "They fade so easily."

"Not all of them are human," Ichigo says, leaning against a boulder by the entrance. "Some of them are longer-lived."

"They won't like it if you trap them," she tells him. "The sort of creatures that think like humans tend to be… clever."

He shakes his head.

"I don't want to keep them here," he admits. "I want to give them someplace safe."

She smiles at him, patting his head gently.

"You are a foolish hatchling," she tells him fondly. "I can see why you were your mother's favorite."

Ichigo preens at this, even after she leaves.

It's nice to be reminded.

*.*

* * *

Sometimes, Ichigo wishes his hoard were more like his sisters. Easy to gather, easy to keep safe.

Yuzu's hoard was her cooking. Nothing made her happier than the food she made, except for maybe the way that the people she made it for devoured it. Karin's was even simpler— successes, written down in little notebooks and hidden in a box under her bed. They're both still too little to change completely, minus a lick of flame here or there, but already, their collections were vast, their standing considerable, as far as their kind go.

After their first change, their hide will be strong, their scales will show themselves, and Ichigo won't have to worry as much anymore.

He will, anyway.

*.*

* * *

Officially, it's Grimmjow that sees Ichigo's other shape first, having followed him to the caves like the little stalker Ichigo had secretly hoped he was.

When Ichigo finally catches sight of him (he'd been aware of his presence for a while), he doesn't do anything, just presses his large, scaled head to the ground and watches Grimmjow calmly with one giant, brown eye.

_I won't hurt you_, he promises, making Grimmjow start. _You can stay here_.

The blue-haired arrancar growls.

"I'm just here for a decent fight," he grunts, but Ichigo can tell it's something more. He's not sure what, exactly, but there is.

Ichigo doesn't change back— he won't be able to see him, if he does— but as it turns out, Grimmjow's not that afraid.

He decides to stay.

*.*

* * *

Ginjo and his hoard of abilities (not people, abilities) are particularly irritating, enough so that Ichigo has few qualms about eating them, one by one.

They crunch beautifully between his teeth.

*.*

* * *

Four Visored stayed behind, and Ichigo sees them all regularly. It's Hiyori, however, that comes to him every night. She's the one who tells him.

"I always know where you are," she murmurs, curled up like one of his sisters against his chest. "We all do."

That's more than Ichigo expected. He always knew where they were, generally (youth and dimensions made it a little bit fuzzy), but that's his instinct. This is the first time he's ever heard a hoard that an locate him— though, to be fair, he's never heard of anyone ever having a hoard that was both sentient enough _and_ intelligent enough to talk about it.

"That's my fault," he tells her. "You're a part of my hoard, now."

"So what you told Shinji was true? You're a dragon?"

She sounds skeptical, which Ichigo understands, except…

"You can't really think that the only interesting things that exist are dead, right? There's plenty in the universe beyond shinigami and hollows."

Hiyori— she's become calm around him, he's noticed, especially since Shinji left her behind to take back his captaincy— makes a face.

"So why do you look human?" she demands.

"Because I want to," he answers. "It's easier to keep an eye on my hoard."

It's the answer he gave Shinji, which she seems to realize.

"Can you fly?"

Ichigo grins.

"Yeah. Wanna see?"

*.*

* * *

Flying with Hiyori on his back is a little like flying with a schoolbag full of bricks on. She doesn't weigh much, but he's still young, small and weak compared to many of his neighbors. By the time they reach the caves, he's out of breath, barely able to turn back and talk without a rest.

"You're really weak," she remarks as he collapses onto a wide couch. "Considering how big you get

"I'm seventeen," he retorts between gasps. "Most can't shift between forms until their forties."

Hiyori is surprised, but she doesn't comment.

"So… this is your…"

"Cave? Yes. It was my mother's." He gestures towards the far wall, where most of her paintings hang. "That was her hoard."

"Art?"

"Yeah." Ichigo rolls onto his side. "God, I'm tired."

Hiyori frowns. "How are we supposed get home?"

Ichigo waves a hand at the abundance of cushions, couches, and other comfortable things of leisure.

"Sleep awhile, then we can go back," he answers. "You're heavy, for a little thing."

She decides not to take offense to that, instead taking a seat on one of the plush, complex rugs by his side.

"So, is it just you?" she asks, tucking her knees under her chin. "Are you the only one?"

"No, no— there are plenty of us up here in the mountains," he says. "And my sisters technically count, too. They can't shift yet, but they'll be able to eventually." he frowns. "In a few hundred years, they'll have caves of their own."

"Are they part of your hoard, too?"

"Yes."

"Are Shinji and the others?"

Ichigo closes his eyes. Grimmjow's out— probably hunting, or something equally masculine and scary.

"Yes. So's Rukia, and Ishida, and Inoue and Chado." he turns his head. "Getaboushi and everyone else at the shop, my father, my mother."

"..." Hiyori thinks about this for a moment. "But... Half of them are in Soul Society."

Ichigo nods. "It's very hard. But, I've built this place for them, should they ever need anyplace safe to hide for a while. Or forever."

Something in his face goes slack, and Hiyori knows he's fallen asleep.

She looks around again.

Hopefully, there's something to eat.

*.*

* * *

Unsurprisingly, something goes wrong, and Ichigo gets a phone call.

"The Onmitsukidou have been dispatched," Urahara tells him over the phone, sounding ruffled. "Anyone involved with the last two years' worth of events and isn't directly under the thumb of the Gotei or Central 46 is to be terminated."

Ichigo's on his feet in a moment.

"My sisters?"

"Liability."

"Shinji and the Visored in Soul Society?"

Urahara sounds pissed.

"Imprisoned. They're too close to you, Kurosaki-san. You're the danger."

Something in Ichigo's stomach begins to boil, hotter than any fire he's ever breathed.

"Get everyone to the Visoreds' wearhouse," he orders. "Hachi can keep everyone safe until I can get everyone out."

"Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo pauses. "Yeah?"

"Have your powers returned?"

"... No. But don't worry. I have this handled."

*.*

* * *

Everything is on fire and Shinji's not sure what to think about that. The only thought that's really computing is this:

Ichigo is a fucking huge, terrifying dragon.

His head alone is the size of a car, swinging back and forth on a long, elegant neck to breathe a stream of white fire at the oncoming shinigami.

"Did you know he could do that?" Byakuya inquires, putting pressure on a particularly nasty wound to his shoulder.

"He might'a mentioned something about it, yeah— I didn't believe him, though."

"He's very angry," Rose remarks from where he's leaning against Kira. "I don't think there will be many survivors."

"There won't be any," Urahara answers as Ichigo's Espada— Grimmjow, the old Sexta— tears a Garganta in the wall behind them. "But we need to get out of here. Come on!"

Ichigo registers their escape, but is too enraged to really do anything but continue to roast the motherfuckers who dared to touch his hoard.

It's a good thing he's feeling hungry.

*.*

* * *

When Ichigo returns to his caves, it's the first time his entire hoard has been in the same place. He doesn't even bother changing back, sleepy and full from his feast on spirits and whatever else got caught between his teeth. He curls up right then and there, in the middle of the main cave, and goes to sleep, metallic orange scales glowing slightly in the fairy lights he'd created when Grimmjow became a permanent resident.

"... My son's a dragon," Isshin says blankly, turning to the rest. "Was anyone else aware of this?"

Hiyori and Grimmjow raise their hands, as do the twins.

"It's okaa-san's blood," Karin tells him. "I'm sure Ichi-nii will explain when he wakes up."

"How many days do ya figure that'll take?" Grimmjow inquires, loping over to Ichigo's sleeping, mountainous form. "He sleeps forever when he's like this."

"Give it a week," Yuzu says dismissively. "But until then— dinner, anyone?"

*.*

* * *

When Ichigo wakes up, he finds himself surrounded by his treasures.

Just like it's supposed to be.

* * *

A/N: I got bored and wrote this in a few hours today rather than do dishes. I thought it'd be sort of sweet, especially after seeing all those 'unusual hoards' that are going around on tumblr— check out IguanaMouth's stuff— it's pretty adorable.

All mistakes are mine. This is silly and short and I might expand upon it later. Enjoy.


	2. Yuzu's Thoughts On Her Brother's Hoard

A/N: I was not expecting as much as I got out of this fic, but God knows it helped my self-esteem. Here's another little snippet, since people were curious. Again, this was written in a few hours— namely, the hours I should have spent doing other things.

Thanks!

* * *

The problem with her big brother's hoard (besides the fact they're, you know, _self-aware_) is that for the most part, they're just _stupid_.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue. Their kind have hoarded all sorts of creatures, from mice to mountain trolls, but it's a completely different thing when the treasures talk back. Even with Ichigo's very well-detailed explanation, they don't understand that he's young, he's small, and really, he's just starting out.

They keep wandering away from the caves, and no matter what Ichigo tells them, they don't understand that _it's not safe_. There are others that aren't so friendly that live on this mountain, others who are large and grumpy and unnecessarily violent towards hatchlings, especially if they have hoards.

There are dragons whose hoards consist of other hoards. There are dragons that don't have any hoards at all, preferring to sleep bare and with the knowledge that they are the strongest in the mountains.

Ichigo has tried to explain, but in the end, nobody understands until... Well.

They get a visitor.

The most interesting thing about their kind, Yuzu finds, is that names don't really matter. Dragons don't call each other by name. They have their own set of senses— senses that are complicated to explain— that give them an understanding of each individual, should they ever come in contact. Most of the time, though, they don't— come in contact, she means. It's probably another reason they don't really use names.

One of the easier things to explain to non-dragons— humans, shinigami, arrancar, _whatever_— is that, for the most part, if one is referring to a single dragon in particular during conversation (which is incredibly rude unless one happens to be incredibly intimate with the third party), they are referred to by their hoard. It's not difficult to tell— the smell of scratched Backstreet Boys CDs is just as specific as gold or anything else— and it is a definite marker among the more common scale patterns and colors. Blacks, greens, browns, and grays are a dime a dozen— a blue-scaled fire-breathing lizard that's into torn polyester lingerie? Not so much.

Yuzu can smell the unfamiliar hoard of orchids and hairbrushes through the scent of her brother's treasures even before she can hear the thundering sound of colossal wings flapping. Of course she does; the phrase 'stranger danger' are words to live by, especially when they're all so young.

"Karin!"

Before her sister's name can even leave her throat, the resulting earthquake of something slamming against the side of the mountain nearly kills her via falling stalactites.

When she pauses to check on Ichigo's hoard, she realizes that she's not the only one who nearly died.

"What the hell was that?" Shinji demands, already running towards the mouth of the cave.

"Stay back!" she roars, already leaping over the larger bits of debris to get to her brother. "Stay back!"

They don't listen, of course they don't. Ichigo seems to enjoy collecting idiots.

Ichigo is pressed onto his back by a giant, pearly-scaled claw. His tail is barely the length of the threat's shortest claw.

The noises he makes are pitiful as he struggles to free himself. His attempts do nothing, except make his captor chuckle.

The sound is so low and grating it echoes through the hoard, rattling even Yuzu's bones long after it ends.

_A fiery little hatchling, you are_, the Orchid-and-Hairbrush dragon purrs, shifting so its body blocks out the sky behind it. _Hasn't anyone told you that princesses have gone out of style?_

Ichigo whines. He doesn't answer, though, which Yuzu appreciates, until Grimmjow speaks up.

Of course.

"There ain't no princesses here," he roars up at the scaled chest and claw. "Get off of him!"

Yuzu feels her breath leave her body when the long, serpentine neck that she knows is there curves downward and— oh, hell.

The dragon can barely fit its snout through the entrance. Even its smallest, most delicate scales around its nostrils are larger than Yuzu and her twin combined. Even the armor on Ichigo's underbelly isn't half that size.

Turning its head, a single, yellow eye rakes across them critically.

_So it is true,_ it rumbles disapprovingly. _Your hoard is made of humans._

_Not humans,_ Ichigo manages, still trying to slide out from between the claws trapping him on his belly. _Spirit creatures. Different._

_Sentient beings are forbidden to be taken for hoards_, the dragon remarks. _The penalty is death, hatchling. Even one so young ought to know that._

"Who said we were taken?" Ishida speaks up, stepping forward like the idiot Karin's always said he was. "I came here of my own free will."

_A Quincy? How rare._ The dragon shifts. _Is this true of all of you? He did not trap you?_

Nods and murmurs of contentment reach Yuzu's ears, and she starts to breathe again.

Orchids-and-Hairbrushes raises its head again, relaxing its claw slightly so Ichigo can wriggle free.

_Keep a better eye on your hoard, hatchling,_ it warns Ichigo as he scuttles into the cave. _They wander too close to the others, and they are not pleased to smell humans nearby, spirit-creature hoard or not._

_I've told them not to go to far,_ Ichigo tells it sullenly. _They don't listen._

_That's what you get for having treasures that are self-aware. _The dragon pauses. _Are the other hatchlings part of your hoard as well?_

"We're his sisters," Karin offers. "We're still too little to have nests of our own."

The dragon snorts.

_What an odd hoard,_ it remarks._ Very well. Keep your hoard away from the other caves, hatchling, or we will have words._

Ichigo spits fire, which makes Orchids-and-Hairbrushes chuckle again.

_Stubborn thing._

And just like that, the sun is back, and the dragon is gone.

Ichigo shakes his way violently through his transformation back into a human shape, letting himself fall into the grasp of his hoard as bruises begin to form on his toughened skin.

"Are you all going to get that big?" Isshin inquires quietly, eyes wide as he gazes out at the too-bright sky.

Yuzu and Karin exchange a glance.

"He— or was it a she?" Karin shrugs, so Yuzu skips that. "They were very old. It would take us centuries to even reach a quarter of that size."

Karin quirks a smile at her father.

"Don't worry, Oyaji," she tells him. "We have a long way to go."

Yuzu notices something intriguing. Cocking her head, she steps away from the conversation, eyes locked on the white-knuckled grip Ichigo has on...

Oh. Oh.

How sweet.

*.*

* * *

The hoard as a whole is visibly shaken. Even Byakuya, one of the more distant of Ichigo's treasures, is curled up within an arm's reach of Yuzu's brother, no doubt thanking her brother's thoughtfulness in bringing excessive throw pillows and plush rugs to lie on in the main cave.

It's one hell of a wake up call, to see someone so strong be overpowered so easily. Yuzu appreciates their fear. At the same time, though, she thinks it might be for the best.

None of them seem to have any interest in exploring the darker parts of the mountain anymore.

Currently, Ichigo is sandwiched between Orihime and Kensei, relaxed into what can only be describes as an erotically non-sexual catnap— that's what Hirako says, anyway.

Yuzu considers the description apt, though unusual.

Curled against Ichigo's thigh, Rukia is fast asleep and drooling on his jeans. Hiyori's less careful, having draped herself across the lot of them and promptly gotten comfortable one his chest.

Urahara's on his side above Ichigo's head, Ururu and Jinta tucked sweetly against his sides.

Yuzu supposes this is what it means to sleep among one's treasures.

*.*

* * *

Karin hops into Yuzu's bed like she's done a thousand times.

"I think Ichi-nii has a thing for Urahara-san," she says bluntly. "What about you?"

Yuzu raises her head slightly to survey the rest of the cave. It's an offshoot of the main cave, smaller and more human-sized. The other bed is full, but Yuzu's long since learned that Grimmjow sleeps like the dead, as do his occasional bedmates.

"Why do you say that?" she asks, lying back down.

Her sister twists a lock of her hair around her finger absently.

"Tessai-san told me that Ichi-nii sleeps in Urahara-san's bed every other night."

Yuzu thinks about that. It's not unusual for their kind to sleep among their treasures, but to be so partial to one...

That doesn't really happen with hoards.

"I don't think onii-chan has realized he likes Urahara-san yet," she admits. "Onii-chan's not so smart with that sort of thing."

Karin snorts, flopping down onto Yuzu's extra pillow.

"Tell me about it." Stretching like a cat, she turns her head to her twin. "So. What do we do?"

Yuzu shrugs.

"Let them sort it out for themselves, I suppose," she says. "It's not like they don't have forever."

In the other bed, Lisa listens carefully to the twins' conversation, a pensive curve curling her lips.

It seems she might have something interesting to occupy her time for the next few months.

Awesome.

*.*

* * *

Kisuke wakes up with fingers in his hair and something warm and breathing on his chest. Glancing down, he sees Ichigo's decided to grace him with his presence tonight, as well.

It's three in the morning.

He goes back to sleep.


	3. Neighbors, Puberty, and Familial Ties

Neighbors, Puberty, and Familial Ties

Summary: In which the neighboring dragon is pretty chill, Shinji and Kisuke learn a thing or two about what it means to be a baby dragon, Kisuke has a minor identity crisis, and Isshin thinks that maybe he didn't fuck up his relationship with his son _that_ badly.

* * *

Ichigo's neighbor is known as Data. He hoards statistics, facts, variables— that sort of thing. He has also taken a liking to Shinji, who seems to particularly appreciate his collections on dragons.

"It's just cool ta be readin' about first-hand encounters," he defends when Kisuke teases him. "Especially since we're gonna be livin' with three of them for the foreseeable future."

"Actually, probably just the one," Karin pipes up from her place on the plush rugs. "Females tend to mature earlier than males, so we end up leaving the nest around two hundred or so."

"Yeah, yeah— Data has a treatise all about it. But still— that's two hundred years of livin' together. May as well get acquainted with the basics." he pauses, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Though, some o' the stuff was a little unclear."

"Which bits? Maybe I can help."

"…" Shinji is not blushing. "I'd rather not talk to ya about it, to be perfectly honest."

Something like understanding and mirth makes Karin's eyes sparkle.

"You've been getting into the puberty thing, huh?"

Kisuke blinks.

"_Puberty_ is what's making you go all red?" he asks incredulously.

"It's confusing!" Shinji protests weakly. "All this— I just don't understand."

Karin chuckles, flopping back against the rich red of the rug.

"Well, I doubt you'll feel any better asking Ichi-nii," she remarks. "Data'll help you with anything you need, I'm certain."

"I— yeah."

"And take Kisuke-san with you, would you? I'm sure he'll need to hear some of it, at least."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Kisuke is equally uncomfortable talking about such things with Karin. On his pale face, it's distinctly more obvious.

Shinji takes some comfort in that.

* * *

"So, what's with the… It says here that dragons reproduce asexually?"

Data, when he is in his reptilian form, is roughly the size of a city block, with dull green scales and webbed claws. His human shape is not nearly so intimidating, small and gangly and bespectacled, with mousy brown hair and watery green eyes.

His cave isn't nearly so comfortable for humans, but it does have somewhere to sit, which is all Shinji really wants when he's reading.

"_'The Development and Maturation of Draco Orientalis'_," he reads out, peering at the title. "A good choice, though a bit early to be reading. Friends-and-Family* isn't anywhere near this point in his development."

Kisuke frowns, leaning forward over the desk.

"Ichigo said that he was early to be skin-changing, but what do you mean by that?"

Data smiles.

"Dragons begin developing sexually at approximately six hundred years," he explains. "While the first stage of this development is officially at three hundred or so— when the nestling is large enough to care for itself and begin building a hoard— a dragon will rarely contemplate finding a mate until much later. Regardless, a mate is not required for offspring. So long as a dragon remains in its reptilian form, it is essentially sexless, and reproduces simply by producing eggs via a secondary formation between the trachea and esophagus commonly referred to as a Dactyliothecam Tube."

"… Oh." Shinji pauses. "So… Dragons vomit up their eggs?"

"Essentially."

"Gross."

"It's not so bad. The eggs look similar to precious stones, and they're roughly the size of soccer ball— at six hundred years, that's the same as coughing up, oh, I don't know… a peanut?"

"If this can be done… Why did you mention mates?"

Kisuke looks a little uncomfortable asking the question. He fidgets with his cane, twisting her against the floor with quick, easy turns of his wrist.

Data eyes him speculatively.

"Asexuality is the orientation of over ninety-three percent of the all eastern species, and sixty-four percent of western. Despite that, nearly one hundred percent— and I _mean_ one hundred percent— of all fully matured dragons have or have had a mate.

"Functionality has nothing to do with emotion, and neither does sexuality," he tells them both. "Like most species, we get lonely. Partnerships are a major part of the social hierarchy, and besides, sexual interactions and romantic interactions are not exclusive to one another. That much is a simple fact."

Data scratches his jaw thoughtfully with a long, black nail.

"I wouldn't worry about that in any case," he says with a nod to Kisuke. "Even if Friends-and-Family does end up being in the seven percent that enjoys intercourse, he won't be anywhere near that stage of his life for a long time— actually, it's sort of gross of you to be thinking of him in that way. He's barely out of diapers, compared to dragon at this point of their lives." He taps the scroll under Shinji's hand. "If you were a dragon you'd be a pedophile."

"Oh, don't worry, as a shinigami he's a pedophile, too," Shinji says cheerfully, patting Kisuke hard on the back. "Anyway, thanks, Data, for the lesson— now, can you explain to me this volume on Dragon Legend…"

* * *

"I'm not a pedophile."

It's four o'clock in the morning, and that is the phrase Shinji wakes up to.

"… Of course yer not," he grunts tiredly. "You're just lusting after an admittedly handsome teenager who happens to be the son of one of yer best friends, that's all."

Kisuke's hand is bony, and it hurts when it makes contact with Shinji's bare stomach.

"Ow!"

"I'm not _lusting_," Kisuke says, rolling over to face the other blond. "It's not like that."

"It isn't?"

"No."

"Than what's it like?"

"It's… I don't know how to describe it."

"Try."

"I…" Kisuke huffs, and Shinji can see the barest outline of his hands coming up to cover his face.

"I'm happy when he decides to sleep with me instead of the others, and happier when I think about the fact that he spends more nights in my room than the others," he says. "Him being in the same room with me makes me feel like the goddamn sun is sitting in my chest. When I make him laugh, it's like the sun's three times bigger than usual. It's like…" He sighs again. "I sound like a middle schooler with their first crush."

"And you're keeping us awake," grunts a voice from the other bed. "Fuck, Urahara, can't you have this crisis when people aren't trying to sleep?"

"Ah, shut up, Kensei," Shinji calls back lazily. "If ya and Mashiro can keep us up all night with yer fuckin' Kisuke can have a moment to realize he's in love, the poor bastard."

"Not just in love," Kisuke mutters stiffly. "I don't want to… with him."

"Hmm? Is that all that surprisin' to ya?" Shinji inquires, arching an eyebrow in the general direction of his friend's face. "I can't recall ya ever havin' a relationship that had any sort of physical aspect— at least, as far as I know."

"… Yoruichi-san…"

Shinji snorts.

"Doesn't count— ya were never in a relationship. Ya knew she never liked ya that way, and ya were more than okay with it. Am I wrong?"

"…"

"My point exactly." He nods decisively. "Now, if ya don't mind, I'm goin' back to sleep. We can deal with yer crisis in the morning, okay?"

"I… okay."

"Night, Kisuke."

"Good night, Shinji-san."

* * *

Never in a million years did Isshin ever think that Ichigo would return to his bed after the age of six, and yet here he is, curled around his father like a second skin, heavy and muscled and _fuck_, scaly.

Masaki had the scales, too. She'd told him it was a skin condition.

To be honest, the closeness is a nice change from the cold words and occasional (constant) hits that his and Ichigo's relationship has become over the years. To know that his son isn't… Bitter. It's a nice thing to know, considering the secrets Isshin has kept from him.

He supposes it balances out, considering the large, scaly secret his children have kept from him.

Maybe now that most of it— never all, Isshin can't do that to them, or to himself— is out in the open, they can start functioning like a real family again.

Yeah. That would be nice.

* * *

*'Friends-and-Family' is Ichigo's dragon name, because Shinigami-Arrancar-Visored-A-Quincy-His-Dad-And-His-Sisters doesn't quite roll off the tongue so easily.

A/N: To people who have complained about the relationship: I didn't think people needed a warning for an asexual relationship that only serves as a relatively minor plot point (as far as generally disconnected chapters go) so I can dedicate a chapter to dragon maturation, but okay. I guess you couldn't have known.

I generally hate Isshin for all the crazy shit his kid went through thanks to all the secrets, so the idea of Ichigo forgiving him is kind of different for me. Honestly I think he should have gotten way more shit for letting Ichigo fumble around in the dark with his heritage and abilities, but hey. It's not my manga.


End file.
